


disillusions of a young heart

by thewriterofperfectdisasters



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: (because we all know it's happening), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Getting Together, M/M, auguste lives!, author's blatant disregard for oats, laurent also spends a healthy amount of time swallowing (but in the background), laurent has a crisis based entirely off seeing damen for the first time, laurent spends a healthy amount of time wallowing, love spells, oblivious disaster bi damianos, of course he does it's a modern au im not having my boy DEAD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 17:14:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17166011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterofperfectdisasters/pseuds/thewriterofperfectdisasters
Summary: ‘Do you ride?’‘Ride what?’Damen blinked, a slow smile spreading over his face. ‘Horses?’‘Oh,’ Laurent nodded, and before he could stop himself, added, ‘I ride everything.’‘Oh.’‘Laurent, please,’ Auguste said drily. ‘We’re in a restaurant.’aka, the love spell au no one asked for, but one person said "ooh that's cool" and that was all the prompting i needed





	disillusions of a young heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [exalted_one](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exalted_one/gifts).



> merr crismis bud~ ~~this fic is lowkey ur fault so it's yours now ur welcome lol but thank u for being a gr8 new frend and happy holidays!!~~
> 
> soooo i already said _blah blah in case i don't post again before the end of the year_ and i'm proving it wrong oops but what can u do tbh. **nb:** im not giving any detailed instructions and/or verbal components for this spell bc i don't want to be implicated for any of you actually giving it a go?? soz lads ~~that being said i'm pretty sure you could find this shit online if you really wanted to lol~~
> 
> title from _the love you have in you_ by asbjørn

It felt like Laurent was fitting nicely into a stereotype, what with the rain lashing the windows of his apartment and the wind whistling through the eaves outside as he poured a mixture of milk and honey into a bowl and tried not to think too hard about what he was doing. Technically it was a full moon, and he was apparently desperate enough to count it in on a technicality which was that the rain was, uh, coming from clouds. That were covering the moon.

Like that one single thing would be what caused this to fail, and not that he had reached the new low of performing a love spell. Being a classical studies major had got him into some weird shit, and he really hoped this was that weird shit peaking. Knowing his luck, probably not.

He was just sad. Okay? Kinda sad. Not super sad. Just a little sad. And getting increasingly bored of being alone. It might’ve been his own fault for being unapproachable and “scary” (thanks, Auguste) but he hadn’t been on a date in forever, and it had been longer since he’d… enjoyed the company of another person. As more than a friend.

God, he didn’t even like considering his stupid feelings by himself, let alone talking about them with his few friends or his brother or – _shudder_ – random strangers on dating apps and the internet. He had his reputation as a cold-hearted bitch, and his refusal to discuss anything even remotely resembling his personal life was definitely not helping with that.

So that was how he came to be here. Sitting on his kitchen floor in lieu of the outdoors, because it had the largest window, with a couple of ceramic bowls, one filled with a selection of appropriate liquids, another with a small fire that he was tossing semi-appropriate items into, and a piece of paper next to him with the instructions.

The ones that, uh, he’d written. In his first year. His first semester, even. The objective was to write a semi-feasible love spell, and apparently, he’d accomplished that, getting a respectable grade with several notes in the marking to point out specifics that were well placed and considered.

So, it then became, not that Laurent was sitting on his kitchen floor, offering libations and setting fire to things and reciting a love spell to attract _someone_ , but that he was sitting on his kitchen floor, offering libations and setting fire to things at his own instruction, and reciting a love spell that he had written, _himself_.

It wasn’t that he thought it was all bullshit. Things prevailed and lasted through the ages because maybe at some point they had actually worked. He didn’t find issue in calling for the help of multiple deities – _golden-haired Hekate, please bless my dumb ass in this magic, Aphrodite Pandemos, please sprinkle some love my way_ – because he knew enough to respect them and frankly, he needed all the help he could get.

Laurent’s issue with this was maybe a little that he worried _maybe_ if this worked, if somehow he managed to get a boyfriend, then he might be forcing him into it against his will. Mainly, Laurent’s issue was with himself. He had never particularly cared about his relationship status, but now he was… Something had changed. He didn’t know what.

Just, one day, he woke up and things were different. The light seemed a little dimmer, the colours a little less bright, and his _heart_. He could feel it, like it was pulling at something, or being pulled _by_ something. It was a deep-seated yearning that tore at him in the dark and lonely hours, when he looked to the empty side of his bed, when he cooked his meals for _one_ , when he got home and there was no one there to say anything to him except his cat.

He didn’t want to say it hurt because it didn’t. It was a twinge, nothing more, a light squeeze whenever he thought about things and wondered if – gods forbid – this was it for him. He didn’t want this to be it. He knew there was more, that he was missing out on things and that he wanted to have _someone_.

Being alone was something he was used to, but that didn’t mean he liked it. It was bullshit, really. Where the fuck was the love of his life? Could he just fucking – hurry up? Laurent felt like he was withering. Maybe that was the weird thing going on inside him. He was _withering_ , like a rose left in the sun without water. He was being depleted by having nothing, by being alone.

Call it stupid, call it a ridiculous worry, but Laurent didn’t want to die alone, and since he’d woken up that day, his heart calling for the echo of its own beat in the chest of another, it was all he could think about.

And he’d tried, he really had. He’d made an effort on Tinder, on Bumble, on Grindr, and every other dumb fucking app he could find. He’d started going to events on campus, talking to the people he recognised from his classes. He’d even resorted to attending a few of Auguste’s parties. But apps weren’t working for him, events weren’t holding his interest, his classmates were scared of him, knowing him as _that blond bitch from Greek and Roman art obsessed with the Hellenistic period_ , and Auguste’s parties? Definitely not the place to be looking for a long-term, meaningful relationship. How Auguste had managed to find one of those, Laurent would never know.

Well. Actually. He’d asked.

During his previous lowest moment, eleven on a Tuesday night, Laurent had called him. He’d asked, _how did you find Nik?_ and consequently hung up when Auguste took that to mean the exact wrong thing and had launched into a longwinded description of exactly how he’d found Nik less than ten minutes earlier. (Good, apparently. _Not the best because he was tired, but that couldn’t be helped. Tuesday nights he_ – no. Goodbye, Auguste.)

But still – his question had gone unanswered, and when Auguste called him the next day to ask him why he wanted to know how he’d come to find Nik and _their relationship, ah, sorry, Laurent_ , he’d just hung up again, not wanting to acknowledge the fact that he was apparently desperate enough to call his older brother and ask for advice on dating.

And yet – here he was. Somehow managing to scrape his way lower. Desperate enough to perform a love spell he’d written himself.

Naturally.

As you do.

The one point of difference Laurent had found between himself and the spell he was trying to recreate was that while this was _technically_ an eros spell, one driven by passion and desire, he didn’t have a target in mind. That required some edits to his oral component, scratched out in red pen on his printed essay, making use of the double-spaced lines to make amendments and additions.

He muttered to himself as he tried to rewrite things, tried to be respectful while acknowledging to the deities he called upon that, yeah, he was basically asking them to materialise the love of his life for him because apparently, he was doing his best to avoid Laurent.

He had no clothing, no personal belongings, no hair or DNA samples to burn and tie someone to him. He had fuck all. He didn’t even have a _name_. Laurent knew what he liked, but he wasn’t about to go and will that into existence, because if his dream guy turned up, then he knew he’d feel more guilt than joy about it.

There were _some_ lines Laurent wasn’t willing to cross, but apparently a love spell and, uh, ritual sacrifice were a-okay with him.

He went to bed that night feeling washed out and empty. Maybe because he’d just poured his feelings into a tealight candle in a novelty ceramic mug in the shape of a rubber duck, maybe because he’d just spoken to his kitchen ceiling at length about how fucking _tired_ he was of feeling alone, or maybe simply because he’d been awake since six that morning.

Nevertheless, he’d made sure to dispose of his offerings respectfully, made sure to tidy up his rubber duck mug, made sure the cat had clean water and some food to snack on overnight.

By the time he finally fell into his sheets, Laurent had nothing left to give. No thoughts, no words, no feelings or emotion, and barely enough energy left to be glad he could sleep in the next day.

***

Laurent had almost forgotten about his late-night adventures into witchcraft when he woke up to the buzzing of his phone going off with a call. He knew for a fact that he’d put his phone on _do not disturb_ mode, which meant there was a one in three chance it was Auguste calling him. The only other people he had on his favourites list – and therefore authorised to have their calls go through – were his parents, and they were more the _turn up unannounced_ parents than the _call beforehand_ type.

So, it was almost definitely Auguste.

Or rather, it was Auguste.

Which was why he had zero problems with answering his phone as, ‘What do you want?’

‘That’s no way to greet your favourite brother,’ Auguste replied.

‘You’re my only brother.’

‘Still, a “Hi!” every now and then wouldn’t kill you.’

‘Clearly you have nothing to say so I’m going to hang up now.’

‘No, wait!’ Auguste said. ‘I’m sorry. Are you still in bed?’

‘What time is it?’ Laurent asked, rolling to his back and squinting at his ceiling. He could see a strip of light from outside coming through the crack in his curtains. ‘Is it morning?’

‘Dude, it’s like, lunchtime.’

‘Lunchtime is subjective, give me a number.’

‘One.’

‘One?’

‘Yeah. Are you okay?’

‘I’m… great. Did you actually want something?’

‘Yes, I did,’ Auguste made a sound like a giggle and then another _oof_ noise like he’d sat heavily. ‘First off, you should really get up –’

‘Fuck off, I am,’ Laurent muttered, pushing himself up and rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. ‘What else?’

‘Are you busy tonight?’

‘Didn’t you hear? I have like, so many friends now.’

‘Congrats, bro,’ Auguste said, ignoring his brother’s sarcasm. ‘Nik’s best friend has just moved here, so we’re throwing him a welcome party. Wanna come?’

‘Not really.’

‘Great! I’ll pick you up at about seven?’

‘No.’

‘Awesome. See you then,’ Auguste said cheerily, hanging up.

Laurent groaned and tossed his phone to the end of his bed, looking around his room in some kind of mild disgust as he tried to remember why he was so tired. He’d gone to bed at around three, which wasn’t exactly unusual, until he saw the crumpled tissues dotting his bed and floor, and the mild disgust got a bit… more.

That’s right. He’d opened up a Pandora’s box of feelings last night.

Maybe it hadn’t been three when he’d gone to bed. Maybe the reason he didn’t exactly remember much of his night had something to do with the half empty bottle of vodka on his floor.

So. That explained the headache.

Laurent felt gross and the last thing he wanted to do was go out to a party – and with Auguste’s friends, no less – but his brother had very much inherited the _turn up uninvited_ gene from their parents, and he would be here at seven no matter how much Laurent protested. He might as well just make it easier for himself and go along with it.

With that in mind, he grabbed his phone from where he’d thrown it in anger and took it with him to the kitchen so he could check his notifications while he ate… something. Probably something bland like toast. Or oats. He’d been eating a lot of oats recently, for reasons he didn’t quite understand. It had sort of come about when he’d been standing in the breakfast foods aisle, zoning out and staring at the rows of boxes for far too long, and he’d grabbed the first thing his brain had focused on. Which happened to be a massive variety box of oats.

He didn’t even like oats.

All that aside, it was fast and easy to make, and his cat spent less time trying to steal it than toast, even if she did want to stick her head directly into the bowl when he finished and put it down.

Laurent downed a few glasses of water and made his way to the bathroom to shower. Maybe have a bath. He could do with a bit of non-alcoholic wallowing.

Bath run, door closed, cat out of the bathroom, Laurent sank into the water up to his chin, maybe in some half-hearted, subconscious attempt to reabsorb all the liquid he’d apparently expelled through his tear ducts earlier this morning.

He wasn’t usually like this. He was, in fact, never like this. Laurent was never like this, and he didn’t know why it had changed, but he knew he needed to get himself sorted before Auguste arrived, or he’d never hear the end of it.

Auguste just… he cared. It wasn’t a bad thing, it had been something Laurent had always admired about him, and even though Auguste’s concern was usually directed at _him_ , it had pulled Laurent out of a rut more than once. This was just one thing Laurent didn’t want any help with.

He’d been in the bath for… maybe too long by the time he decided to get out. Winston Purrchill was at the door, doing her best to get in and meowing mournfully like she was so sure Laurent had disappeared.  

‘I’m still here,’ Laurent said, hauling himself from the water and drying himself off quickly, wrapping the damp towel around his waist as he let her in to investigate, and heading back to the kitchen to where he’d left his phone charging on the bench.

There was a missed call from Auguste less than five minutes ago and a voicemail notification, but Laurent figured it was probably easier to just call him. It rang three times before he picked up.

‘Laurent, hey!’

‘What is it now?’ he asked.

‘God, you don’t even say hi back, now?’

‘Hi. What is it?’

‘Did you check your voicemail?’

‘Why would I?’

‘Because I left a message?’

Laurent said nothing, hoping his displeasure at this turn of conversation was coming across.

‘Yeah, fair,’ Auguste muttered. ‘Uh, turns out, I’m actually picking you up at six. We’re going out for dinner.’

‘Who is “we”?’

‘You, me and Nik, Damen… the boys, y’know?’

Laurent groaned as he headed back to the bathroom to drain the bath, hoping his cat hadn’t drowned herself. ‘I don’t really want to have dinner with your friends, Auguste.’

‘They’re your friends, too. You know that.’

‘Hmm.’

‘Don’t _hmm_ me.’

‘I’ll still come, but only if you pay for me.’

‘I’m already paying for me and Nik,’ Auguste protested.

‘Yeah, and you have a trust fund, it’s not like you can’t afford it.’

‘So do you.’

‘I’m happy to stay home, though.’

‘Fine. Six. Be ready.’

‘Hmm.’

‘Laurent, what did I just –’

Laurent hung up with a smile, happily ignoring the _“you little bitch”_ text he got from Auguste and heading to his room to dress.

***

Laurent immediately knew where their table was. Someone, probably a waitress with enough experience dealing with groups of boys, had put them on the upper floor near the function rooms, out of the way. Their table was on the balcony areas by a couple of private booths, able to look out over the rest of the floor below, and Lazar whooped when he saw Laurent and Auguste walk in through the entrance.

‘By “the boys”,’ Laurent said, as they started climbing the stairs to their table, ‘did you mean basically your entire friend group?’

‘No…’ Auguste said, biting his lip to stop from smiling. ‘Maybe. We need to introduce Damen to some people!’

‘Aren’t you throwing him a welcome party?’

‘Uh, well, the thing is, we’re having this welcome dinner instead, and then we’re going out to some clubs.’

Laurent stopped on his step in front of his brother and turned slowly to face him. ‘Is your intention for me to murder you?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘You know I hate clubs.’

‘You don’t have to _come_.’

Laurent ground his teeth and continued up the stairs, taking the spare seat on the end of the plush bench beside Jord, while Auguste slipped onto the chair beside Nik.

‘He told you we’re going out after this, didn’t he?’ Jord murmured.

‘He did.’

‘You know we’ll end up home at like midnight with some nuggets and Cards Against Humanity, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Gonna suffer through it?’

‘Probably.’

Jord hummed and passed him a menu. ‘We told the waitress five minutes like ten minutes ago.’

‘Oh good,’ Laurent muttered, flicking through the menu, only finding the beginning of the mains right as the waitress came back to their table. He picked the first thing he saw, immediately forgetting what he’d ordered, and handed her back his menu, pouring himself some water while he waited for everyone else to do the same.

‘So,’ Nik announced after she’d left, pulling Laurent’s gaze off his phone and away from Instagram. ‘Laurent.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Have you met Damen?’

Laurent blinked and moved his gaze to the guy sitting on Nik’s other side. He had to admit, he’d been too absorbed by the clubbing revelation to remember why he was here – but _god_.

Oh _no_.

Laurent’s mouth went dry as he looked at the human embodiment of sunshine, his smile small in greeting, and his hair pulled back into a bun, a few tendrils escaping at the front.

‘Hi,’ Laurent said weakly.

‘Hey,’ Damen said, and _oh god_ , his voice.

Laurent blushed and went back to his phone. _Oh no._ Laurent had – fuck – he’d done that love spell last night, and now _this_ appeared? It was a coincidence. It wasn’t. No. This was – he’d just moved to town. He was Nik’s best friend. Surely this had all been months in the planning.

Besides, all Damen had done was smile at him. Fuck, Laurent was just weak as hell.

He pushed himself backwards and attempted to merge with the wall, and while, in hindsight, that may not have been the subtlest thing, it briefly rid him of his problem. Which was Damen being cute and nice and smiling at him.

The briefness and overall effectiveness of this move was decidedly undercut by Damen switching seats with Auguste, now seating him directly opposite.

‘Hey,’ Damen said again.

 _Oh no._ ‘Hi,’ Laurent said, his voice thankfully a bit stronger this time around.

‘Laurent, right?’

Laurent about melted at the way his name sounded coming from Damen’s mouth. ‘That’s me.’

‘I’m Damen.’

‘I… yeah.’ Laurent swallowed and folded his hands together under the table. ‘You just moved here?’

‘Yeah, just moved back, I guess. I went to go stay with my uncle for a bit and help him out with his farm.’

‘Oh?’

‘He raises a lot of horses,’ Damen said, eyes narrowing like he’d remembered something unpleasant.

‘I like horses,’ Laurent said quietly. ‘They’re easier than people.’

‘Yeah, I mean… yeah.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Do you ride?’

‘Ride what?’

Damen blinked, a slow smile spreading over his face. ‘Horses?’

‘Oh,’ Laurent nodded, and before he could stop himself, added, ‘I ride everything.’

‘Oh.’

‘Laurent, please,’ Auguste said drily. ‘We’re in a restaurant.’

Laurent fought the blush he could feel reddening his neck, creeping onto his face, and sipped his water casually. ‘Get your mind out of the gutter, the food is on the way.’

Auguste raised an eyebrow and turned around, just as their waitress appeared at the top of the stairs, the first of their meals being slid down the table.

Laurent still had no idea what he’d ordered, but figured since everyone else had theirs already, his was next.

To say he was disappointed in his choice was to say the least, as a huge burger, stacked the width of his hand with meat, was placed before him.

‘Looks good there,’ Auguste said, watching Laurent frown at his plate. ‘Yum yum, huh?’

Laurent narrowed his eyes at Auguste and poked the bun with his knife. ‘Why didn’t you stop me?’

‘Not a fan of burgers?’ Damen asked, his own fork hovering over a salad that Laurent envied him for.

‘Not… not as such,’ Laurent replied, now fighting off a grimace instead of a blush.

‘You want to swap? I haven’t touched mine.’

‘I couldn’t ask you to do that.’

‘It’s fine, really, I don’t mind.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely,’ Damen nodded, switching their plates and taking the stupid little skewer from through the bun and dropping it to his plate. ‘I’ll even pay for it.’

‘You don’t have to,’ Laurent said, stabbing a piece of cucumber with a little too much joy for someone faced with solid, green water. ‘Auguste is paying.’

‘Oh great, thanks, dude,’ Damen said, slapping Auguste on the shoulder and biting into the burger with enthusiasm. ‘It’s really good,’ he said through a mouthful of bun and meat. ‘You don’t know what you’re missing out on.’

‘I know what a burger tastes like. I don’t hate them, I just…’

‘Don’t like to eat them in public?’

‘Something like that.’

‘You’re lucky I have no dignity,’ Damen said, punctuating his words with a large bite of his burger.

‘Guess so,’ Laurent agreed, smiling despite himself.

Damen didn’t reply, didn’t talk again until after he’d finished his food, apparently too consumed by consuming it to make conversation.

Laurent was okay with that, peeking up occasionally to watch him. It was almost a disaster. The burger was leaking sauce, and Damen was in a white shirt. Laurent couldn’t see it ending any way except badly, so he was surprised when that shirt made it through the meal unscathed.

He was just about to let go of the breath he was holding when the waitress came back, and Damen ordered a dessert that had both berry coolie _and_ chocolate sauce on it.

Surely.

But no – once again, the shirt made it through just fine. What the fuck kind of magic, honestly.

Damen made casual conversation through the rest of their time at the table, asking Laurent questions and responding with answers of his own, finding similarities and differences and remaining politely oblivious to Laurent’s stunted social skills. (Or whatever the fuck had got into him – usually Laurent was considerably smoother than this.)

‘Are you coming out with us?’ Damen asked, as the table stood to settle the bill and head out to some clubs.

‘I hadn’t quite decided yet,’ Laurent said with a shrug, heading slowly to the door as Auguste sent him a withering look when he whipped out his credit card to pay for their food.

‘Would you want to?’

‘I’m not really a club person.’

‘Oh.’

‘Why?’

Damen shrugged, a little too stiff to be nonchalant. ‘I wouldn’t mind hanging out with you some more.’

Laurent studied him for a moment, his tongue darting out to wet his lip. ‘I was going to go home and watch a movie.’

‘Oh, sounds fun,’ Damen said. ‘What one?’

‘Hadn’t decided. Any recommendations?’

‘Not off the top of my head.’

Laurent nodded slowly. He didn’t think he was being subtle. Was he being subtle? He didn’t _think_ he was reading these signals wrong. Was he – what was going wrong here? Did he need to be more blatant in his flirting? ‘Would you help me pick?’ _Nice._

‘Oh, uh,’ Damen frowned. ‘I don’t, like, know what’s on Netflix here or whatever.’

Laurent blinked, looking to Auguste over Damen’s shoulder, as if to say _what is happening?_ ‘Would you – am I being too subtle?’

‘What?’

‘I’m asking you to come _with_ me, Damen.’

Damen’s mouth dropped in a small _oh_. ‘You – Are you?’

‘I told you, horses are easier than people.’

‘He’s at least _part_ horse,’ Nik butted in, making Damen jump.

‘Dude, you can’t sneak up on me like that,’ Damen said, punching him in the arm.

‘Are you going home with him or not?’

‘I…’ Damen looked back to Laurent. ‘You want me to ditch my own welcome committee?’

Laurent shrugged. ‘It’s up to you.’

Damen grinned and looked to Nik. ‘See you later.’

‘Alright, dude,’ Nik said, saluting him as he and Laurent started walking away.

Laurent was quiet as they left. He didn’t know where they were going. He hadn’t come here in his car. He hadn’t called an Uber, didn’t know anything about the public transportation schedule for today. ‘Where are we going?’ he asked after a few moments of walking in silence. It had felt like years.

‘My car,’ Damen said, like it was a question. ‘Is that okay?’

‘No – I mean, yes, it’s fine, this just wasn’t how I expected my night to go.’

‘You can uninvite me from watching a movie, Laurent, it’s okay.’

‘I don’t want to do that,’ Laurent muttered, as they turned into a parking lot. ‘I just never do things like this.’

‘Like what? Invite strange people to your apartment?’

‘No. Yes. No, I don’t,’ Laurent huffed. ‘Sorry.’

‘What for?’

‘You… make me nervous.’

‘I make you nervous?’ Damen repeated in surprise. ‘Why?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Are you _flustered_ , Laurent?’

Laurent shot him a look. ‘Where’s your car?’

‘Over there,’ Damen nodded to a Jeep parked a little haphazardly. ‘I was in a rush. I promise I’m a good driver.’

‘I hope you’re right.’

‘Music, no music?’ Damen asked, as they climbed in. ‘Also, where do you live?’

‘I’ll give you directions, and music is up to you.’

‘Okay,’ Damen started the car, tapping on his radio for a moment to get some soft music playing in the background, before he reversed from his spot, one hand on the back of Laurent’s seat, and kind enough to ignore the small noise that escaped Laurent beside him.

In what was apparently becoming his signature move of the night, Laurent made things awkward. They’d driven to Laurent’s apartment, not really speaking except to comment on the music or to confirm the direction they were heading. When they reached the apartment, Laurent opening his door and feeling a blush rise on his cheeks as Damen watched him, he tossed his keys onto the kitchen bench and asked, ‘Is this weird?’

Damen, who had been standing politely at the door, partway through deciding whether or not to take his shoes off, looked up. ‘Huh?’

‘This. Am I overthinking this? Or is it weird?’

‘It’s not _not_ -weird,’ Damen said. ‘But you’re definitely, uh…’

‘Not helping?’

‘You really don’t do this often, do you?’ Damen smiled. ‘Don’t freak out. Nothing has to happen if you don’t want it to.’

Laurent pursed his lips. This was his idea. What had he been thinking? Not much, apparently. Just enough to know he thought Damen was attractive, and that –

Oh.

Oh no.

‘Hey, Laurent?’ Damen asked, having walked into his kitchen, where he was now looking into the sink interestedly. ‘Why do you have a duck mug in here with like… scorch marks in it?’

Oh _no_.

Laurent had briefly forgotten about his flirtation with magic this morning, and now here was Damen _holding_ the evidence of it. Laurent’s life flashed before his eyes – not even a fucking _highlights_ reel – as the unexpected hot person and leftovers of his ritual collided.

He hadn’t, like – this was just a coincidence. Right? Laurent hadn’t… _summoned_ Damen or something, had he? He was sure he’d had this thought already, but somehow he was newly entitled to be terrified by it.

‘Unrelated,’ Laurent heard himself say, ‘but do you believe in magic?’

Damen slowly put the mug down. ‘I don’t know if I want to know why you’re asking me that.’

‘I don’t – consent is important, Damen.’

‘Laurent, this conversation is not getting less weird.’

‘You’re here because you want to be, right?’

‘What, did you poison me or something?’

‘No! Of course not!’ Laurent ran one hand through his hair, the other resting on his hip as he tried to think of a way to explain this so it didn’t sound completely insane. ‘Answer the question?’

‘Yes, I want to be here, but I gotta admit, you’re making _me_ nervous now.’

‘I’m a classics major, Damen.’

Damen blinked, tilting his head in confusion. ‘Congrats?’

‘I – okay, this is going to sound _weird_ , I know, but I took a paper on magic and witchcraft, okay? Part of that was love spells, and I…’ Laurent trailed off, gesturing into the air, like he could spell out what he’d done with flaming letters, like he was Tom Riddle or some bullshit thing like that.

‘You – what, performed a love spell?’ Damen asked, picking up exactly what Laurent was putting down.

‘Yeah!’

‘And you think I might be here because love spells are a thing and you’re worried I might actually not be here of my own accord?’

‘I know, it’s stupid – it’s _very_ stupid, I agree,’ Laurent babbled, ‘but yes, that is exactly my concern. I didn’t do it with you in mind, obviously, we just met, but you’re exactly my type, and I just want to make sure because I would never force you or _anyone_ to date me or _love_ me or –’

Laurent snapped his mouth shut, turning away from Damen to take a deep breath. He was surprised Damen hadn’t left when he turned back to face him. ‘It was a low point. The lowest point. I drank a lot of vodka right after.’

Damen swallowed audibly, nodding slowly. ‘Yeah,’ he said slowly. ‘You sound insane.’

‘ _Thank_ you.’

‘But that being said, I believe you?’ Damen frowned. ‘That’s not the right word, but I don’t believe any kind of magic like that would exactly work, so I’m pretty okay with thinking I’m here of my own making.’

Laurent let out a sigh of relief. ‘After that, the question sort of becomes – are you going to stay?’

Damen laughed. ‘Yeah, I’m going to stay.’

***

‘You did a love spell?’ Auguste asked, flicking his eyes between Damen and Laurent in disbelief. ‘And you thought you’d like, what, caught Damen with it?’

‘The timing was too perfect,’ Laurent muttered, elbowing Damen in the ribs, which he dodged expertly. ‘No, you deserve it, you said you wouldn’t tell him!’

‘I didn’t!’ Damen protested. They’d been dating for a few months now, and had agreed somewhere right around the beginning of it that they would never tell anyone about how this had all started. ‘I told Nik.’

‘You told _Nik_?’

‘Okay, don’t be mad, it was literally about ten minutes after it happened,’ Damen said, winding an arm around Laurent’s waist and batting his eyelashes maybe a little too fast.

‘Do you require medical attention?’ Laurent frowned. ‘Your eyes are spasming.’

Damen stopped and rolled his eyes. ‘How do you manage to look so charming when you do it?’

‘I’m cute, and not a giant beast.’

‘I thought you liked my giant beast?’

‘This is disgusting,’ Auguste said cheerfully, slapping his brother on the back hard enough for him to jolt forwards. ‘I’m gonna go find my own delightful boyfriend.’

‘He’s not your boyfriend anymore,’ Laurent reminded him. ‘You can’t call him that.’

‘I’ll call him what I like.’

‘Auguste, we’re _literally_ at your engagement party.’

Auguste grinned and flicked them a pair of finger guns as he headed off into the crowd.

‘I can’t believe you told Nik,’ Laurent said, turning on Damen once again.

Damen sighed, turning Laurent around in his arms. ‘How long exactly do you think you’re going to hold it against me?’

Laurent hummed, raising an eyebrow and running his hands up Damen’s chest to link them behind his neck. ‘Depends how you’re going to apologise for it.’

‘Even though it happened months ago?’

‘ _Especially_ because it happened months ago.’

Damen leaned down to kiss Laurent’s temple, and whispered his plans for later into his ear. ‘Will that suffice?’ he murmured.

Laurent made a noncommittal noise and gave a small shrug, even as a blush rose high on his cheeks from Damen’s words. ‘Maybe, but I’m sure you’ll have a while to make it up to me.’

Damen smiled against Laurent’s hair. ‘I hope so.’

**Author's Note:**

> yeehaw catch these hands as i promo my [tumblr](http://damiaanos.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/daamiaanos) as usual lol


End file.
